


Lessons in Poetry

by Nightfox



Series: Camelot Drabbles [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode: s05e03 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, M/M, Misunderstandings, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightfox/pseuds/Nightfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leon thinks he understands what Merlin's poetry lessons are really about...and then he's sure of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in Poetry

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I couldn't help but seize on this scene for a good misunderstanding. Sorry!
> 
> Written for the prompt "misunderstanding" over at [Camelot Drabble](http://camelot-drabble.livejournal.com) on LJ.

~0~

When he comes upon them in a dark and lonely corridor late one night, both Merlin and Arthur wear the look of men caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing.

“Is everything alright, my lord?”

“It’s perfectly fine. We’re…” Arthur looks to Merlin and Merlin looks back eyes wide, face blank.

“Merlin, tell Leon what we’re doing.”

Leon can see the King is uncomfortable while it’s obvious Merlin is lost for words.

“We…I’m teaching him some poetry.”

Leon gives them an amused little half smile.

“Poetry?”

It must be a joke.

“I, uh, love poetry.” Arthur flounders to agree and Leon realizes it’s not a joke but rather a badly crafted cover for something else. Eyeing the way guilt sits on them and taking the lateness of the hour into account, Leon thinks he can guess what that something is.

“I was as surprised as you are!” Merlin’s attempts at dissembling are pathetic, as always, his grin wide and disingenuous.

“He can’t get enough of it.”

The wording seems so blatantly lewd that Leon feels himself gape for an incredulous moment. He finds he has to forcibly gather himself before he can walk forward and continue on down the corridor. He addresses Arthur, but it’s Merlin’s eyes he feels upon him as he moves.

“I’ll leave you to your poetry then, my lord.”

He skirts the king and continues down the hall. He looks back over his shoulder once and sees Merlin is watching him with clouded eyes and only half a smile. Leon tells himself it’s none of his business what the King chooses to do with his manservant in a deserted corridor in the dead of night, but the image of their guilty faces doesn’t leave him for a good while. Poetry lesson indeed, though Leon rather suspects Merlin’s lessons involve more of the bawdy art of the limerick than they do the sweeping romance of the epic.

______________________________

Another night, in a different corridor, Leon approaches the amoury and hears cries from within. Fearing mayhem (after all, there is a large collection of instruments within that room specifically designed to _cause_ mayhem) Leon bursts through the door unannounced only to freeze just inside the threshold.

Neither Arthur nor Merlin take note of him at first and Leon can feel himself blush beet red at the sight before him.

Merlin, stripped completely bare, his clothes strewn about the place in improbable abandon, is on his knees, bent double over one of the low benches. The King, clad only in a thin, red tunic is driving into him from behind, cock squelching and balls slapping in noisy congress. The cries Leon heard in the hallway are coming from Merlin and while he sounds agonized, it’s clearly the agony of pleasure and not that of pain.

Leon continues to gape, helplessly enthralled as Merlin rears up, arches backward and slams himself hard against Arthur’s body. He reaches back and locks his arms around the King’s waist and drops his head to loll against Arthur’s shoulder. He’s bowed at a seemingly impossible angle, but one Arthur takes immediate advantage of. Leaning forward to take Merlin’s mouth, his hands tightly grip his servant’s hips as he lunges into him again and again. Arthur breaks the kiss and looks down the long length of Merlin’s body to the jut of his straining cock. Sliding a hand around it, he begins to stroke Merlin as his hips continue their pistoning roll. Merlin once again begins to whimper and cry, getting louder and louder with every thrust of Arthur’s cock in his arse, with every twisting stroke of his hand.

Incredibly turned on but horribly embarrassed, Leon desperately tries to gather his wits. He attempts to quietly back out the door before he’s noticed by the distracted men. However, his awkward foot falls against a rack of spears by the door and the subsequent rattle sounds out in the short silence that falls when Merlin draws breath to continue his keening. Arthur doesn’t break his rhythm but his head snaps round while Merlin falls forward and clutches at the bench trying to muffle his cries against the unyielding wood.

Blush intensifying, Leon tries to avert his gaze but finds himself staring helplessly at the tableau before him. Desperate to break the tension, he blurts out, “Forgive me, Sire. I didn’t realize you were…uh, reading poetry again. I’ll just…I’ll just leave you to it.”

That does stop the King and he glares at Leon while Merlin giggles underneath him. However, before anything more can be said, Leon stumbles back and slams the door behind him. He can’t quite understand what Merlin finds so funny but he does wonder if he could get the man to give _him_ some poetry lessons in the future. Merlin certainly seems a capable teacher and Arthur certainly seemed to be enjoying the cultural experience. He can hear Merlin’s giggles escalate to outright laughter as he walks away.

~0~


End file.
